“Would you believe I was in the neighborhood?”“No."“Well, how about that I needed to see you.”“Why? Did one of my neighbors call and say my cat’s been stalking their bunny?”One corner of his mouth went up. “You know, that sounds like a euphemism. A kind of salacious one”“Ooh, big words for Mr. Average Joe street cop,” she said, knowing she sounded bitchy but unable to help it. “Can you take out the angry eyes, Mrs. Potato Head, and just let me talk to you?”

“On Saturday mornings during deliveries, I'd practice picking out new words in Jane Eyre, sounding out the ones that needed sounding out—and I'm not lying, there were plenty. "'A new servitude! There is something in that,' I soliloquized." I mean, who talks like that? Do you know how long it takes to sound out a word like soliloquized? And even after you do, you have no idea what the stupid word means except that it probably just means "said," which is what stupid Charlotte Brontë should have said in the first place. When I delivered Mrs. Mason's groceries, she saw that I had Jane Eyre stuck under my arm. "Oh," she said, "that was my favorite novel in school." "It was?" I soliloquized.”

“He was an Angel.  He walked in Grace.  When you meet one—and I’m sure someday you will—you’ll know it, too.  When he told me, it was, just, well, giving voice to something I already knew on a level.” “And how did you know for sure?”  I asked. “Did you see his halo?” “Do you want to cut down on the snark?   I’m your mother.  Given the events of the last two days, I’d think you’d be more inclined to take my word for it.” She had me there. “Besides, he did show me his—ah—true self.” “Is that a euphemism for penis?  Please let it not be a euphemism for penis.  You are talking about my dad.” “No, it’s not a euphemism.  I mean he showed me his Angel form.”

“You know what my mother said to me when she came to say good-bye, as if to cheer me up, she says maybe District Twelve will finally have a winner. Then I realized she didn't mean me, she meant you!" bursts out Peeta."Oh, she meant you," I say with a wave of dismissal."She said, 'She's a survivor, that one.' She is," says Peeta.That pulls me up short. Did his mother really say that about me? Did she rate me over her son? I see the pain in Peeta's eyes and know he isn't lying.Suddenly I'm behind the bakery and I can feel the chill of the rain running down my back, the hollowness in my belly. I sound eleven years old when I speak. "But only because someone helped me.”

“Let’s all do it,” said Mr. Watts. “Close your eyes and silently recite your name.”The sound of my name took me to a place deep inside my head. I already knew that words could take you into a new world, but I didn’t know that on the strength of one word spoken for my ears only I would find myself in a room that no one else knew about. “Another thing,” Mr. Watts said. “No one in the history of your short lives has used the same voice as you with which to say your name. This is yours. Your special gift that no one can ever take from you.”

“What did he mean, 'insatiable lust'?"She hastened to explain. "Well, 'insatiable' means unable to satisfy-""I know that," he said in a biting tone. "Why did he say that about you?"Sara rolled her eyes and shrugged. "It was nothing. I merely tried to kiss him once the way you kissed me..." Her voice faded as she realized that her parents were watching the pair of them in dumbfounded silence.Isaac was the fist to speak, a smile twitching the corners of his mouth. "I've seen and heard enough, Mr. Craven. If you and my daughter are already talking about 'insatiable lust,' I think I'd better give you my approval... and hope for a quick wedding.”